


The Talk

by famousfremus, sohypothetically



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, s2sl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/famousfremus/pseuds/famousfremus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohypothetically/pseuds/sohypothetically
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine the most embarrassing conversation you ever had with your parents. Now imagine having it with Haymitch and Effie instead. Everlark gets an education they never expected. Co-written with Sohypothetically for the 2015 S2SL charity collection on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Banner by Ro Nordmann.
> 
> This story was written for S2SL, a charity committed to fighting a specific kind of childhood cancer called DIPG. You can learn more about DIPG and the charity that benefited at HopeforCaroline.org or s2sl.org. 
> 
> We do not own the Hunger Games. Special thanks to “All About Eve” and “Outlander” for providing inspiration for Haymitch’s dialogue. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: Oysters, embarrassing situations, frank discussions of a sexual nature, and smut.

 

#  **“Let’s talk about sex, baby.”**

Effie Trinket nimbly maneuvers her way through the colorful Capitol crowd. It isn’t easy, what with the combination of six inch heels, the effects of several bright pink cocktails she’s chosen specifically because they exactly match the shade of her dress, and sponsors, friends, and acolytes stopping her every few feet. 

“Effie, dear! So good to see you!”

“Effie! Your victors look glorious!”

“I was just telling Horace the other day that we always knew you’d amount to something. You’ll be promoted to a better district after this for sure!”

“Those boots are divine, darling. Wherever did you get them?”

“Would it be possible to meet Cinna?”

She would love to stop and chat with several of the people who hail her attention, especially here, the most lauded of all victor events. She would never go so far as to admit that she deserves the praise because that would just be bad manners, but a few moments spent basking in the well-earned glory of her victors could not hurt. Could it?

She shakes her head to clear it. No. She needs to stay the course and find Haymitch. Almost tripping over an exquisite marble occasional table, she makes her way to yet another of the many bars only to be disappointed again. Where is that simple, provincial man? For a drunk who can barely stand most of the time, he’s surprisingly elusive. Her foot taps impatiently in her designer boots as yet another well-wisher slows her progress.

“Effie Trinket! We all knew you had it in you to beat the odds and bring a long-shot home.” The drunken man in the purple suit leans toward her unsteadily. “Made me a fortune, your pair.” He doesn’t bother to whisper it. After all, most of the Capitol knows who bet the high-rise on Katniss or Peeta. Besides, the entire point of attending the president’s reception is for the winners to gloat.

Effie bats her eyelashes, falling easily into the Escort role like the professional she is. “Titus, I am so happy that you decided to join our team. And your last little bit of sponsorship certainly helped assure Team Katniss’s victory.”

He sputters, pink cocktail spraying out of his liver-colored lips. “Little? You talked quite a sizable amount of money out of me that day.”

Effie places a hand on his arm in a placating caress. “It worked in your favor, dear, didn’t it? We turned your investment into something sizable, just as I said. By the way, I don’t suppose you’ve spotted Haymitch recently?”

“Abernathy?” Liver-lips leans against the wall, relying heavily on his jeweled cane for support. They had become all the rage since Peeta periodically appeared sporting one. Chubby, beringed fingers wave in the direction of the library, further back into the interior of the mansion. “I think I saw him hitting the presidential port.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s always such a pleasure speaking with you.” Effie blows air-kisses onto his moist cheeks, careful not to smudge his make-up lest the rest of the guests discern that his skin color is strictly on the surface rather than dyed more permanently. “We’ll have to get together before the Quell for lunch!” She barely registers his overly enthusiastic nod as she teeters purposefully toward the library and her goal.

“Haymitch? Are you in here?” Effie flicks the light switch next to the elaborately carved mahogany door. Normally she would spend at least fifteen minutes studying the treasure, but she doesn’t have time tonight. Tonight, her focus must be her victors and their next challenge. She squares her shoulders, tugging gently on the jacket to straighten her tightly laced corset. “Haymitch?”

She thinks something dark and utterly unladylike when no answer comes from the depths of the room. Where could the man be? If he were half this effective during the 74th Games, she wouldn’t have been nearly so busy lining up sponsors for her dear Katniss and Peeta. Not that Katniss had ever said thank you. Quite bad manners on that young lady, really. She would have to have a talk with her before the Quell about proper ways to show her appreciation. If there weren’t other, more pressing, things to discuss, she would bring it up on the train ride back to District 12.

She whirls on her toe, reaching for the light switch once more when she hears it. That noise coming from the couch. Is that…a snore?

Without a thought to propriety, Effie strides to the couch and leans over the sleeping mentor. Drool pools on his chin, evidence that his slumber isn’t a recent thing. “Haymitch!” Effie taps his cheek harder than she intends. At least she tells herself that the loud smack is unintentional, as is the decidedly strident tone to her voice when she says, “Haymitch, wake up.” To herself, she mutters, “I swear, I must do everything myself. What did you ever do before I arrived?” She gasps and leaps backward as he swings at her with the swipe of a phantom knife.

“I was happy just being alone and drinking.” Haymitch groans as he stretches.  “What do you want? And where is my drink?”

“You are abhorrent. How can you drink at a time like this? We have a serious situation here, or did you not notice?” Effie’s hands ball into fists at her waist.

Shaking his head, he points toward her before reaching for his discarded glass. “Tsk, tsk. Did you just call me a whore? Such shocking manners, Ms. Trinket. What _situation_? The boy and the girl are dancing attendance on our dear president and sponsors. All is right with the world, so let’s celebrate with a drink.” Haymitch drains the remnants of golden liquid that sparkle in the firelight and pours another generous amount into his glass.

Effie grabs the glass from his fingers and places it on a side table. “Did our victors or did they not become betrothed last night?” At his blank and cloudy look she throws her hands in the air. “Marriage, Haymitch. Marriage! Our victors are engaged to be married.”

“Yeah. So?”

Effie narrows her eyes. “So? So? How can you sit there, take a nap, and drink when there’s so much to do? Never mind the wedding itself and Katniss’s trousseau…But we have a more pressing issue. Judging from the _noises_ coming from Katniss’s berth, I think there needs to be a long-overdue discussion about what happens between married couples.”

“You mean arguing and fighting?” At Effie’s stormy expression, Haymitch shrugged. “I’m confused, Sunshine.”

“I can’t believe you are so…so… _backwards_ in your little district at the edge of the world that I need to spell this out for you. I’m talking about S-E-X. Sex, Haymitch. Married couples have sex.”

Haymitch blinks several times, as if he’s having trouble understanding Effie’s use of the word. Finally, he sprawls against the comfortable leather couch cushions as he sweeps an assessing gaze from the tip of Effie’s pink hair to her viciously pink boots. “I didn’t realize you knew what that was, Effie.”

Effie stared down her nose. “Just because I’m not a rutting boor like most men doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two about the pleasures of the flesh. We brought our pair of Star Crossed Lovers home. We must prepare them for the next challenge, especially when the Capitol expects them to continue the love story of the century. We mustn’t disappoint them. And that means that they need to skip the awkward newlywed stage.”

“And exactly how do you propose we do that?”

“We educate them. After all, it’s our privilege.”

Haymitch snorts. “I’m sorry. Did you just say that we should have the sex talk with them? You probably wear a corset to bed. And I’m in no position to impart my manly wisdom to anyone.”

“Shush. You would be attractive if you weren’t a drunk who dresses like he robs graves and you took a bath more than once a quarter. And I’m sure that whatever your impairment is, the Capitol has a pill to counteract it. Surely, you can sit down with Peeta and impart _something_ useful that will turn Katniss’s scowl into something more befitting a glowing young bride?”

“Did you just come onto me? Because I think you just called me handsome. I’m flattered, Sunshine. Really. You don’t have to fake a crisis just to get into my pants. You just need to ask me nicely.”

Effie gapes. “I am appalled that you would think such a thing. I would never insinuate that you and I should…that we should…that we could be anything more than collaborators who are both interested in the ongoing success and happiness of our victors.” She recovers her enthusiasm quickly. “Now, you will need to take Peeta aside at the same time as I speak with Katniss. I have slated the entire first day of our journey back to District 12 for this conversation so we have ample time to discuss specifics as needed. Thank goodness that will only give them one night together on the train before we return them to the bosoms of their family. I suppose it’s too much to ask that they sleep in their own compartments.” She sighs heavily before continuing, “Katniss will need a full set of lingerie, of course, and I’ll need to instruct her as to how to wear each item. That alone will take half the day. As for you and Peeta, will you require any learning aids? I’ve already taken the liberty of procuring several detailed anatomy drawings since time is of the essence.”

Haymitch crosses to the bar below the sweeping windows, where fireworks have just begun painting the sky with a myriad of colors. “You got the kids some porn? That’s really nice of you, and I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. But there’s at least one flaw in your plan: Katniss can’t stand you.”

Effie bristles. “That is not true—”

“Remember training for the interviews? You two could barely work together. Plus, what could you possibly have to work through that would take an entire day? The boy is a teenager. And he loves her. Katniss showing any sort of interest in him is going to have him going off like those fireworks out there.” Haymitch points toward the window.

“So what do you suggest? Katniss has certain marital duties that she must know about.”

Haymitch takes a long minute to grab another glass from the bar before he pours a measure of deep ruby liquid into both and crosses to Effie. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think you’re right. We’ve got to sit them down and have a talk with them about what they can expect from their marriage. You have great rapport with Peeta, so why don’t you take him aside? Besides, the boy’s got older brothers who aren’t totally crass idiots when it comes to women, if the gossip around town is to be believed. He’s coachable. Unlike our girl.” He sighs and hands a glass to her. “I’ll take the girl. She’ll listen to me, as much as she’ll listen to anyone.”

“You’re aware of everything you need to discuss?”

“I do have a rudimentary understanding of male anatomy. Unless, of course, you’re offering to give me a refresher?” Haymitch winks and raises his glass.

“You’re a pig.” Effie tosses her head, eyes flashing, but she raises her glass as well.

“I love it when you talk dirty, Sunshine.” Haymitch takes a long swallow. “I may be a pig, but I’m a pig who is going to make your life easier. Trust me. You don’t want to be anywhere near her when this conversation happens.”

# Katniss

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock._ The incessant ticking echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the richly paneled walls only to be absorbed into the thick pile of the dove-grey carpet covering the floor.  In true Capitol fashion, the clock is ridiculously ornate - covered with gilded cherubs frolicking around a glass orb containing the shimmering nacre face.  Ebony black numbers, in a script with so many flourishes it’s almost illegible, announce the time while a smiling moon circles above in a state of perpetual orbit.

The ormolu clock perches regally on the mantle of an equally large and ostentatious fireplace.  Lion’s heads anchor the corners of the mantle, while swirls and curlicues of pearlescent marble hold it aloft.  Heavy bronze andirons shaped like bunches of roses stand sentinel on either side of the faux-fire that roars behind a completely superfluous mesh screen.  Flickering fingers of light dance across the richly embroidered armchairs and buttery-soft leather couch with kisses of amber and gold, but since they are Capitol-made, the flames give off no heat. 

The ambiance of the expensively decorated room is lost on its current inhabitants, neither of whom truly wishes to be there, sitting in the lap of Capitolite luxury as the train whisks them back to District 12.  Not even the gentle sway of the car on the tracks is enough to lull them into peaceful coexistence.

Haymitch shifts as he takes a sip from the cut crystal rocks glass attached to his hand like an appendage.   Discomfort rolls off his slouched form in waves almost as thick as the white liquor fumes that seep from his pores.  His half-lidded eyes assess Katniss as she picks at the seam of the plump downy cushion beneath her, trying to decide the best way to approach the delicate topic at hand.

Just as uneasy, Katniss eyes her gruff mentor warily from under thick black lashes.  She has no idea why Haymitch called this impromptu meeting, but she can’t help but think nothing good will come of it.  His nervous energy feeds hers until they’re both fidgety and anxious.

Finally, with the heavy sigh of the truly weary, Haymitch breaks the relative silence.  “So, Sweetheart…”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to talk about it.”  Katniss cuts him off quickly with a deadly scowl.

He sighs again, wondering why in the world he thought it would be a good idea for him to try talking to the girl about sex, of all things.  Hell, he can’t even remember the last time he _had_ sex, never mind talked to anyone about it.  Obviously Effie is more of a sadist than he thought, and this is her idea of cruel and unusual punishment for some ridiculous offense of bad manners.  Or, more likely, this was karmic retribution for all of his failed attempts at mentoring.

_‘This is what I get for finally having a victor.’_   He drains the last of his liquid courage, and makes his way to the beverage cart to refresh his drink.

“Better buckle up, kiddo,” he says as he hands Katniss a drink of her own on his way back to his chair, “it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

#  Peeta

“Peeta, dear, do come in. We’re already running a few minutes late.” Effie urges the young victor into the car where she’s been waiting patiently for ten whole minutes. She’s used the time wisely, of course, laying out the instructional aids, directing Avoxes to move the furniture to other cars, supervising the positioning of the bright Sari fabric hangings, candles, and bamboo mats that line the floors. Why, she even lit the incense herself! “We’re going to need every second.”

Peeta stops just inside the doorway as it slides shut. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glances at the new furnishings and the woman’s attire and asks, “What’s this about, Effie? I thought our days of prepping for interviews are over.”

Effie gapes at him in shock _._ “One can never be _too prepped._ Come, come. _”_ Her voluminous, desert-sky hued Capitol silk gown flows around her legs like water as she crosses to a small bit of technology where she hits a button with the long nail of her index finger. Lilting music immediately floods the compartment. “Now, I thought we would start with some dancing. It will loosen us up a bit for the intensive work yet to come.”

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, but he takes Effie’s proffered hand and complies with her wishes. It’s quiet as the two of them move about the small space of the train compartment. “Did we do something wrong last night? Me and Katniss?” The boy swallows again, eyes darting to meet Effie’s before focusing once again over her shoulder, as he’s been taught.

Effie jolts out of her deep consideration of Peeta’s dancing style. “What? Pardon me, I’m afraid I was miles away. No, of course you did nothing wrong. Why ever would you think that? Everyone at the party reported that you both conducted yourselves with aplomb.” She beams at him, competing with the glittering gold ornaments in her bright yellow hair. “You’re an adequate dancer, which is quite a relief, especially given your wound.” At that last word, she coughs delicately into a raised hand. “I was concerned that your injury would impair your capabilities.”

“What capabilities?” Peeta trips over the edge of a mat but rights himself quickly.

Effie gives him time re-establish his center of gravity before they begin another revolution of the room. Finally she nods as if giving him a passing grade. “Men who move well are better able to fulfill the rigors of their marital obligations.”

Peeta drops her hands like he would two scalding-hot loaves. “My _what?_ ”

Effie cocks her head. “Your duty to your wife is to please her. And, in your case, perhaps we could consider it your duty to the Capitol to keep your marriage a happy one.” At his confused expression, she sighs and says as gently as she can, “Your wedding night, dear, and every night of your married life. I’m speaking of your obligation as a man in love to show that love to Katniss every night for the rest of your lives. Physically.”

“Physically? Are you talking about sex?” Peeta croaks, looking as if he’s going to vomit.

“I can see that I’ve shocked you. Why don’t we go have a seat and perhaps have some calming chamomile tea?” Effie directs him to a small seating group and tea service surrounded by candles. She pours him a cup of strong tea, noting with concern that he adds neither sugar nor honey to his tisane before drinking it down and holding his cup out wordlessly for more. After his cup is filled anew, she takes a sip of her own, sweetened brew.

She lets the warmth flow out to her fingers and toes, visualizing positive energy following the same path before she leans toward the distraught young man. “Peeta, I know this is awkward. But we all have a duty to the Capitol. Mine as an escort is to help guide young victors into a happy and fulfilling marriage where your feelings for one another are consummated in love and respect. May I speak frankly?”

“I didn’t realize you were holding back.”

She’s glad to see the return of that inner spark that makes Peeta so compelling, although she chastises, “Manners. Now, as I was saying, we each have our responsibilities to fulfill here. I, for one, am willing to overlook whatever misguided fumbling the two of you have been up to on this train, if you can agree that you will apply yourself as a diligent student.”

“Katniss has nightmares. I’ve just been sleeping in her berth to help her through them.”

Effie levels him with a stern glance. “Young man, I was not born yesterday. Yours is a highly irregular situation. In fact, the Escort training and handbook says nothing of what to do with two victors. Your mentor and I have made certain _allowances_ for the two of you as a result. I would hope that you would at least afford me the courtesy of honesty in this sacred space that I’ve prepared.” Effie waves an elegant hand at the brocaded silk wall hangings, wafting her hand through smoking incense to do so. She smiles encouragingly. “Please, Peeta. Speak to me as you would a confidante, friend, or perhaps your mother or your favorite aunt.”

Peeta grimaces. “Let’s leave my family out of this.” His eyes drop to his empty cup where he spends an inordinate amount of time studying the pattern of leaves in the bottom. He jolts upright as if an idea just occurred to him. “Where’s Katniss?”

“Why, she’s with Haymitch. He’s having the same sort of talk with her today.”

Peeta’s eyes widen. “Haymitch is talking to Katniss about _sex_?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head as if to dispel an image he doesn’t want to see. Finally, his eyes open and meet hers. “What do I need to do?”

She smiles and pats his hand. “I thought we could look through some pictures and discuss anatomy first. Please stop me if I begin moving too quickly or if you have any questions.”

#  Katniss

Sometime later, after time has slowed to a crawl—if the fanciful hands of the clock are to be believed—Haymitch decides to give their talk another try.

“Ok, listen…” he starts again, desperate to get this over with so he can retire to his own car with a freshly opened bottle and no annoying victor.

“I told you I didn’t want to hear it,” Katniss interrupts again, avoiding his gaze as she pulls tiny plumes of down from their nest underneath her.  After having managed to unravel one side of the cushion, she found she could easily irritate Haymitch by snagging tufts of feathers from the gaping hole and blowing them around the room, not unlike dandelion fluff.  By now it’s practically snowing inside the train; tiny pompoms float gracefully on currents of air, making Haymitch’s nose itch and turn red.

_Ah-choo!_ Haymitch sneezes hard, rocking backwards and causing a tidal wave in his nearly empty glass.

“Fine.  I’ll talk, and you just sit there destroying Government property.  If you choose to listen, swell.  If not, oh well, not my problem; I did my job.”

Katniss snorts as he walks to the bar, and refills his drink in an attempt to avoid more feathers.  A hint of a smile graces one corner of her mouth before dissolving into her trademark frown.

After an eternity of several minutes, Haymitch sits once more in his armchair by the fire, and draws one foot up to rest on the other knee.   He takes a healthy pull from the glass and relaxes into his speech.

“Now that you’ve gone and gotten yourself engaged to the boy,” he starts, noticing that Katniss pauses momentarily in her actions before turning the color of a ripe tomato, “Effie feels it’s our…duty…to make sure you both know what you’re getting into.  At least as far as the bedroom is concerned.”

With a groan, Katniss stops plucking feathers and buries her face in her hands, shaking her head in denial.  “This isn’t happening,” she murmurs, hoping some deity will hear and take pity on her.

Suddenly enjoying himself immensely, Haymitch continues.  “Basically Effie wants to make sure that you and the boy know how to….um…insert tab A into slot B and the like.”

“That’s it,” Katniss grounds out as she stands, her face burning brighter than the dancing flames in the fireplace, “I’m out of here.”  

“Katniss, wait,” he says softly.  It’s the use of her actual name, and not a condescending pronoun, that gets her to pause.  She faces the door, ready to bolt the moment her level of discomfort spikes again, but she doesn’t speak.  Haymitch knows she’s willing to listen, at least for the moment.

Planting both feet back on the ground decisively, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.  “I know this isn’t something you want to talk about, and that you are so far out of your comfort zone you’re in another District altogether, but I’d like to help you, and the boy.  If anyone deserves some happiness out of these games, it’s the two of you.”

Suspicious, and not a little genuinely touched, Katniss turns to him with doubting eyes.  “Since when are you so concerned about me and Peeta?  You couldn’t be bothered after we came out of the arena.”

Chagrined, Haymitch leans back in his chair and takes a drink, by now an ingrained habit, and levels his gimlet gaze on Katniss.  “Touché, Sweetheart.  What can I say?  You two have grown on me, and I want to help.”

 “Really?”  She drawls, meeting his look with a steely one of her own as she crosses her arms defensively.  “All of a sudden you want to help us?  After ignoring our existence for months?”

He pauses for effect.  “Well, let’s just say I don’t want anyone to doubt your love for the boy.”

It takes just a moment for Katniss to grasp Haymitch’s meaning—that this is the only way they have of convincing President Snow, of saving their lives and those of their families.  He can see the struggle play itself out across her face, before she finally acquiesces and sits back down with a puff of feathers.

“Fine, let’s talk,” she pouts, clearly unhappy with the situation, but resigned to her fate.

“Alright, well, your mom’s a healer, so she probably told you about the birds and the bees already,” Haymitch starts, ready to get on with the task at hand.

“Not really,” Katniss concedes in a small voice after a few tense moments.  The pink stain of embarrassment seeps across her neck and cheeks.

“Oh, uh, well then…”  Haymitch back-pedals at her admission, at a loss as to how to continue.

Interminable minutes trickle by as he wracks his brain, trying to figure out how to possibly begin what is becoming more and more of a ridiculous conversation.

Finally, in a last ditch effort, he poses a question, “Why don’t you just tell me what you already know about sex, and we’ll go from there.  Sound good?”

Katniss’ eyes widen as she squeezes the mutilated cushion beneath her, causing more feathers to ooze from the tear in its delicate stitching.

“Oh, ah, well….I mean….um…”she sputters, darker splotches blooming on her already heated cheeks.  She can’t look at him; can barely even breathe as she considers how to answer.

Haymitch starts in amazement, “Tell me you at least know that humans do it face to face, and not from behind like dogs, right?   Although, come to think of it, the dog way can be pretty fun too.  Provided, of course, that your partner is limber and willing.”

“Of course I know that,” she snaps back, “I’m not a complete idiot.”

He leans back and motions for her to continue.  “My bad, please do go on.”

Katniss scowls for good measure then attempts to relax.  “So the, um, man puts his….ah, you know,” she gestures to Haymitch’s lap with a nervous flutter of her hands, “Into the woman’s…..uh, area, and then they, um…..move…until it’s, ah, over.”   She finishes quietly, spreading her hands in uncertainty.

Haymitch sits dumbfounded, his jaw hanging to his chest.  “Penis.  It’s called a penis, Katniss.  Or, if you prefer something less clinical, you can call it a dick, cock, prick, pizzle, willy, johnson, schlong, baloney pony, pink torpedo, love muscle, manhood, member, rod, trouser snake….honestly you can call it pretty much anything, except small, and it’ll be perfectly acceptable.”

She takes a deep breath, trying to stem the urge to flee the compartment and hide in the nearest closet until they’re back in District 12.  Haymitch recognizes the flight instinct building, and attempts to soothe her frayed nerves.

“Look, you don’t need to actually call it anything, but you have to at least be comfortable talking about it.  Fuck, if you can’t, how do you expect to be able to touch it, let alone put your mouth on it?”

The look of abject horror on Katniss’ face is amusing, and it’s all Haymitch can do not to laugh out loud at her obvious discomfort.

“Too much, too soon?  No worries, we can cover that particular act another time.”  He stands and stretches, each vertebra popping like a xylophone, before heading to the bar in the corner. “You want another?”

She nods, and he refills her glass with ice and a generous pour from a bottle marked ‘Vodka’.   The clear liquid slides easily down her throat, and the warmth provided by the liquor spreads quickly from her belly outward, dulling the anxiety rocketing across her synapses.

They lapse back into silence, although this time it’s more companionable than uncomfortable.  As the clock continues its aural assault, the flames in the fireplace leap and twirl in their never-ending dance.  Haymitch can feel the gentle rock of the car as it flies across the tracks, lulling him like a baby in a cradle as the sweet embrace of sleep begins to claim his tired mind.  He’s almost there, head lolling against the back of the plush armchair when Katniss speaks.

“What…what if he’s not…interested?  In sex, I mean, with me.”  Her vulnerable words belie the nonchalance of her voice, and not for the first time Haymitch feels compassion for her rise in his breast.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he snorts in amusement, swirling his drink, “first of all, he’s a teenage boy.  They’re nothing _but_ walking bags of hormones.  Plus, this particular boy has had a boner for you since Kindergarten, meaning his balls are so blue they’re practically purple.”

“So what do I need to do?”

He doesn’t miss her attempt to steer the conversation away from Peeta’s anatomy.

“Just be your usual charming self.  Trust me, any sign from you that you’re willing and that boy’ll be on you like white on rice.  Hell, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t explode from the pent up sexual frustration.”

Haymitch doesn’t miss the small smile that graces Katniss’ lips for a millisecond before relaxing back into her standard frown.

“And if worst comes to worst, there are all sorts of pills available from the Capitol.  I’ll be honest with you, Sweetheart,” he continues, “When it comes to getting his dick wet, a guy just needs a warm, willing body.  A flat surface is optional, and we don’t even need to take our pants all the way off.  ‘Any port in a storm’ and all that nonsense.”

“Well that certainly sounds romantic,” Katniss scoffs as she takes another sip of her drink, letting the cool liquid further calm her fiery nerves.  “So what you’re saying is that for a guy it’s all about getting his satisfaction, and it doesn’t matter what the woman wants, or needs.”

“For some men, yes, that is true,” Haymitch concedes, “but when the two people involved love each other, or even just care about each other, it is so much better.  Then it’s all about your partner’s pleasure, which in turn gives you pleasure as well.  Trust me girly, when you’re both into it, sex can be a truly transcendent experience.”

He toasts her, and Katniss glares at him, finishing her drink in one quick gulp.

“Oh, and I should probably warn you that the first time for a boy is usually pretty quick.  So don’t be surprised if it’s over before he’s even all the way in, and he’s asleep before Caesar’s late night talk show.”

#  Peeta

Effie paces the floor, half-barking, half-chirping, “Peeta, close your eyes and control your breathing! How do you expect to separate your bodily sensations from your emotional ones and reach a true plateau of bliss if you can’t focus?”

“How can I focus when you keep yelping at me?” The frustrated boy rises from the bamboo mat where Effie’s had him bent into shapes like a pretzel for the past hour. He crosses to the chair and tea service where a discarded notebook sits on the table, along with some anatomically correct hand puppets, and some tasteful drawings of couples _in flagrante delicto._ A life-like sex mannequin lays face down on the floor, discarded.“I don’t even get why I have to do this. Control my breathing. Separate the physical from the emotional. Concentrate on each sensation as I feel it. I’ve been thinking about Katniss my whole life. I think I’ve mastered how to work myself up over her and then let myself down gently.”

Effie stops mid-stride in a billowing cloud of perfumed silk. The look she sends him is full of the patient resolve she reserves for young children or particularly obtuse sponsors. “Love is more complicated for women, Peeta. Unlike men, women need encouragement, ambience, and romance. Finding completion is difficult for some girls. Stamina is an important component every time. It’s especially critical the first time, which may not be satisfying for a woman if it’s—ahem—over too quickly.”

Peeta looks up from his pages of notes. “Didn’t you say that the clitoris that has, like, eight thousand nerve endings? I don’t get it. My cock only has—”

“Penis, dear. Don’t call it a cock. That’s vulgar.” Effie crosses to the chair opposite Peeta, who frowns.

“But my brothers said sometimes girls like it when you call it a cock. Or a dick.”

Effie sighs deeply. “That may be true. But would you use ‘cock’ or ‘dick’ if you were talking to your mother? I think not. Today we are using the clinical names.”

He leans his head against the chair cushion. “My mother and I would never have this conversation. As I was saying, my _penis_ has four thousand nerves to the clitoris’s eight thousand, yet I can come practically at will while girls can’t. How is that fair?”

“What an apt pupil you are!” Effie says proudly. “That is all absolutely correct. And you do have a point: so many men just assume that because they feel good, their partners do, too. Not only do you need to make sure she wants to have sex with you each time, Peeta, but it’s your job to give her an orgasm.”

He swallows audibly. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“You’re a victor! You’re certainly up for the challenge, especially when it comes to the woman you love. Am I right? Besides, dear, we’ll make sure that you have an endless supply of Capitol Condoms. They will act like a speed bump for our libido.” She winks at him and looks toward the door, as if expecting an Avox to interrupt at any moment. “I think we should take a little break and have lunch. I’m sure you’re exhausted from hearing all of these facts and figures, and learning all of those positions with the help of the Capitol RealDoll Beetee was kind enough to contribute to the cause. By the way, I think it’s best if you don’t keep her. Katniss may not take too kindly to you having a sex toy.”

“But I still have questions. We haven’t covered anything that helps me get her…off.”

Effie pats his hand and rises as the door opens to an Avox and a cart laden with platters of food. “I think this next part will appeal to you. Let’s learn about the sensual nature of food.” She waits until all of the dishes are displayed on the small table in front of the window. “Do you recognize any of these dishes, Peeta?”

“Not really. I suppose the wine, and some of the fruits. Oh, and the bacon. My family had pigs,” He finishes sheepishly. “The rest of it seems pretty strange.” He leans over the trays and sniffs at them one at a time.

“Go ahead and take your time. I think you’ll agree that good food is about engaging all of the senses. Try a few things.” Effie hands him a china plate edged in gold. For herself, she pours a small measure of the red wine into a goblet. Red isn’t her favorite, but she chose the spicy Tempranillo as the perfect foil for the rack of lamb at the center of the table. She believes Katniss will approve of the lamb, since she’s so fond of the Capitol’s lamb stew. She pours Peeta a glass for good measure. When he still hasn’t picked a single item even after she’s taken several small sips of the wine, she sighs and makes a few selections for him.

“How do I eat this?” Peeta holds up a mango spear wrapped in bacon.

Effie considers his plate for a moment as if weighing manners against her lesson plan. “Normally, I would say with a sharp knife and sliced perfectly into small bites. But the entire point of this exercise is to get as much experience as possible from the food and the experience of eating. What do you suggest?”

Peeta lifts the mango to his lips and licks juice from it. Nodding at the thickly sweet flavor, he closes his eyes and bites through the bacon and the tender fruit. Juice flows down his chin in an amount that requires more than dainty dabbing with a napkin to staunch. He laughs, holding the cloth to his chin. “Sweet, balanced with salty. The bacon gives it a little smoke, which is nice.”

“Are you feeling adventurous?” Effie gestures to a platter of shellfish, displaying wantonly in half of their shells, the meat glistening in the dim light of the candles. “These are oysters. They’re served cold, with just a bit of lemon juice to ease the brininess. Would you care to try some? Many people swear that they bring about the mood just by mere smell alone.”

“Smell? Why is that?” Peeta leans forward and takes a tentative sniff, then shrugs.

“Oysters smell sexual. Plus, their texture is similar in a lot of ways to the way men describe cunnilingus.”

Peeta looks at the contents of the shells with renewed interest. He gingerly pokes the meaty shellfish with his finger before picking up the largest wedge of lemon on the tray and liberally squirting juice all over it. He hefts the shell and—with an inquiring look to Effie, who nods in response—he slurps the flesh from the shell.

“Done like a pro, Peeta. Was that your first time?”

Peeta nods and takes a drink of his wine. “Yeah. It’s an interesting texture. Maybe I used too much lemon, though, because that’s about all I could taste.” He picks up another shell and swallows the contents. “Better without it, for sure. More primal. Not quite gamey, but salty and a little sweet with a hint of something from the ocean. They do come from the ocean, right?”

“Yes. The Capitol gets them from District 4. Finnick Odair swears by them. Why, I’ve heard he satisfies several dates in one night!”

Peeta frowns at the mention of the handsome young victor. “Well, good for him.”

“Why don’t you serve us both some of that lovely rack of lamb? And dish yourself one or two of those figs stuffed with goat cheese and honey. As a baker, I’m sure you’ll appreciate the sweetness.”

Peeta does as he’s told. But whereas he places only a small amount of lamb and lemon risotto with basil and asparagus on Effie’s plate, he fills his own with the savory foods, as well as another bacon wrapped mango spear and several figs. He regales Effie with commentary on each dish, including a healthy dose of criticism for the several of the dishes. “I would sprinkle these figs with some slivered almonds before drizzling with honey. And I swear they used clover honey. Did you pick up on the somewhat sour aftertaste? They should swap that for something more consistent like acacia, or even orange or wildflower. And I really think these mangos could be spiced up a bit with a little bit of chili powder sprinkled on the bacon before baking.”

It’s all Effie can do to hold her tongue. The boy wants to give advice to the chef who prepared their lunch? She almost asks him if anyone has told him how to paint or bake more effectively, but reminds herself just in time not to stoop to his level. Still, she can’t help herself when she asks dryly, “And the brownies? How would you improve upon those, made with the dark chocolate chunks only available to us in the Capitol? Even I can’t resist them.”

Peeta, whose cheeks are flushed from the wine, the rich meal, or perhaps the food discussion, pauses. He sniffs the brownie with his eyes closed. He takes a tentative bite, then another. Finally, deep in thought, he swirls the last bit of wine in his goblet and drinks it before holding out his empty glass for more. “I know you think really highly of Capitol baked goods, Effie. And I don’t want to offend you in anyway, but hear me out. I think they’re too sweet. You could cut some of the chunks and use a spiced chocolate instead to add depth. We do something with cinnamon and a hint of almond which would counteract the heavy darkness of the chunks. Or you could even add a hint of coffee or chili as a nice counterpoint. Otherwise, it’s like too much of a good thing, especially since there’s also chocolate fondue being served.”

Wine sloshes into Peeta’s glass Effie rises. “That is quite enough, Peeta. Our chef from the Capitol is a professional. He’s been preparing food for victors longer than you’ve been alive. You would do well to remember that when you’re ready to give him suggestions! Now, if you’re finished, we have quite a few additional topics to cover this afternoon.”

#  Katniss

Lunchtime is announced not only by the chiming of the clock, but also by Katniss’ stomach rumbling loudly in the quiet room.

“Hang in there, Sweetheart, I’ll have something sent in from the dining car.”  Haymitch crosses to an intercom set into the wall by the sliding door, and presses a series of buttons, presumably ordering up food for the two of them.

Katniss stands, and wobbles on unsteady legs towards the bar.

“Easy, Tiger,” Haymitch warns her, “You’re not a seasoned drunk like me; you’d better lay off the hard stuff for a while.  At least until you’ve had something to eat.”

Scowling, she drops into her seat with a huff of impatience.  “So what else can you tell me about this sex stuff?”

He sits back down as well, and sighs.  “There is not enough time in the day for me to tell you everything, but I guess the one thing to remember is that there’s really no boundaries.  For example, some people like to be spanked, or restrained, some even like to dress up in costumes.  I, myself, am strangely drawn to a tightly laced corset and a nice pair of stiletto high-heels, especially if they’re pointy-toed, but that’s neither here nor there.  Suffice it to say if something feels good, then go for it.”

Katniss takes this in, thinking briefly about his high-heeled shoe comment, and the fact that they both know someone who fits the bill nicely, then dismisses it as quickly with a shiver.  Haymitch and Effie doing anything like that is more than she can handle right now.

Instead, she thinks about Peeta, and what he might enjoy.  She knows so little about him, really.  Even though they’ve shared hundreds of kisses, she’s not sure what he would want her to do.  It’s obvious he’s interested from the way he always has an erection in the morning after they’ve spent the night together, but she’s clueless about how to elicit the same response when he’s awake.  One thing she’s absolutely sure of is that Peeta definitely wouldn’t be into the spanking or restraints given his mother’s abuse over the years.

As if reading her mind, Haymitch interrupts her thoughts.  “Something tells me that boy hasn’t had a lot of what you would call ‘loving attention’ in his life.  At this point, any show of affection from you would be enough to send him over the moon.  Start small with simple touches, like running your fingers through his hair, or stroking his arm.  I highly doubt it will take much to get him motivated.”

A soft knock on the door signals the arrival of lunch.   The door slides open with a _swish_ to reveal an Avox waiting with heavily laden trays of food.  The rich aromas reach out, beckoning them to the table where delicacy after mouth-watering delicacy is being laid out for their dining pleasure.  Haymitch knows they are the same items Effie showed Peeta; the ones that were considered to be aphrodisiacs, and thought to bring on more ‘romantic’ feelings.

_This should be interesting,_ he thinks to himself as the Avox leaves, and Katniss peruses the dishes, unable to decide where to begin.  He hangs back, letting her take it all in, content to wait and see what her reaction will be to the smorgasbord before her.

Katniss finds the display almost overwhelming in sheer variety and texture.  She gravitates toward the lush mango spears wrapped in crispy thick slices of bacon, and eats several in rapid succession.   She licks the nectar off of her fingers, moaning in approval at the mixture of lush flavors.

Moving on she quickly devours a fig stuffed with goat-cheese, and dripping with honey.  “Prim would love these,” she breathes as the sweet delight slides down her throat.

“Why don’t you try something else,” Haymitch suggests as he pours a big glass of Tempranillo, swirling the spicy ruby red wine around before taking a big drink.

Watching her in amusement, he hands her a plate, which she heaps with savory rack of lamb, and a generous portion of creamy lemon risotto with basil and asparagus.  Katniss accepts a glass of the wine as well, albeit much less full than the one taking up residence in Haymitch’s hand.

For a moment, the only sounds in the car are the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the scrape of their flatware against the fine china dinnerware.   

“I think you should try these,” Haymitch declares as he pushes a silver tray of oysters closer to Katniss.

“What are they?” she asks skeptically as she pokes one with the tines of her fork.

“Oysters, from District 4.  You eat them raw with lemon juice.”  He shows her how to squeeze the bright yellow wedge over them, then picks one up and tilts the shell to let the meat slide down his throat. 

Katniss sniffs the oyster curiously.  She’s initially put off by the slightly pungent smell of sea water, but she’s determined to at least give it a try.  Quickly she brings the briny shellfish to her lips, and tips the shell into her mouth, gulping down the pearlescent meat just as Haymitch had demonstrated.

Aside from wrinkling her nose at the taste, she doesn’t show any of the usual ill-effects of swallowing the slimy mollusk whole.

“Nicely done,” Haymitch congratulates her, “Not everyone can do that without gagging.”

“I don’t have a gag reflex,” she answers without a trace of guile.

“That’ll come in handy, which leads me to our next topic of discussion.” He advises as he prepares another oyster for himself. “Do you want anymore?”

“Nah, they’re all yours,” she replies, and helps herself to a chocolate brownie dusted with hot pepper.

Haymitch makes quick work of polishing off the rest of the oysters with gusto, and wipes his hands on his shirt instead of a napkin.  Katniss is about to call him out for being a disgusting pig when he dabs some of the juice behind his ears as well.  Deciding in this case ignorance is bliss, she ignores him and moves on to the pot of melted chocolate and the selection of fruit provided for dipping.

“So,” he begins as she peels a banana and dips the tip into the chocolate, “as I mentioned before, there are many ways to please your partner besides actual penetration, such as mutual masturbation, dry humping, and oral sex.”

At Katniss’ blank look, he pauses.  “Let’s back up and review.  Masturbation is the act of self-love, of getting yourself off with your hands, or other means.  Dry humping is when you rub your naughty bits together, but you’re not usually naked.  And oral sex, well that’s when you use your mouth to pleasure the other person.”

A coughing fit ensues as Katniss inhales a bit of the banana.  Haymitch rushes around to pound her back in an effort to help dislodge the errant piece of fruit.

“ _What?_   I’ve never….  How??” Katniss gasps between coughs.

After they get the banana out, and the coughing subsides, Haymitch realizes what she said.  “You’ve never touched yourself?  Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

Mortified, Katniss looks away.  “Not on purpose.  There was this one time when I was shimmying along a tree branch, but it happened so fast I wasn’t sure if it was real or not.”

“Oh it was real alright, and believe me, it’s even better when it happens with a little help from someone else.”

Katniss has to suppress a shudder at the thought of Haymitch in that manner, but his words do help explain a lot about the noises she’d heard coming from her parent’s bedroom as a child.  Their secret looks and gentle touches made more sense with this new knowledge.

“Now that we’ve established that you know what getting off means, we can move on to one of my favorite topics – oral sex.  It couldn’t be any easier – just put his cock in your mouth, and use your lips and tongue to give him pleasure.  It’s not unlike what you were doing to that banana a moment ago, really.  Oh, and don’t be afraid to tug and twist the balls while you’re at it.  Guys love that.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Katniss shakes her head, convinced this is some kind of new torture devised by the Capitol to punish her for the berries.

Haymitch ignores her, fully in his element.  “A gentleman will warn you before he’s about to go off, usually with a tap on the shoulder or some such action.  By the way, a guy’s semen has roughly the same consistency as those oysters you didn’t care so much for, so you may want to move before he comes.  Oh, and as much as a guy loves to receive, he loves to give even more, and I’ve always figured baker boy to be a real cunning linguist, if you catch my meaning.”

He laughs at his own joke, long and deep, until tears appear in the corners of his eyes.  That’s when he finally notices Katniss isn’t laughing, and in fact she looks more confused than ever.  “Trust me, you’ll understand eventually.  Ever see a dog with peanut butter?  It’s like that, only way, way better.”

Seeing her uncertainty, Haymitch stops laughing, and takes a more serious tone.  “Listen, Katniss.  We can sit here and I can tell you about all sorts of things, but only you know what’s right for you.  When the time comes, you and Peeta will figure things out together, and your bodies will know what to do, even if you brain doesn’t.  It’s all part of nature.  The most important thing to remember is that sex should feel good, and if you’re not comfortable, then having sex just because you think it’s what’s expected of you, or because you think it’s what someone else wants is the wrong reason.  You’ll only end up hurting yourself in the end.”

She nods in understanding, but before she can reply, he continues, “And keep this in mind – right now the boy is more invested than you, and taking this step with him, when your heart isn’t 100% in it is the worst thing you could possibly do.”

#  Peeta

“Rose petals, Effie? I don’t think Katniss is going to go for rose petals.” Peeta stares at the bag in Effie’s hand as if it’s going to rise up and bite one of them.

“Women like romance, Peeta. You must set the scene: music, candlelight, good food, and flowers are essential.” Effie sniffs and puts the bag down on the table, which is strewn with Peeta’s notepad, drawing and pictures, and the discarded wine glasses.

“I think good food is enough for most of us in District 12. Especially Katniss.” Peeta, restless, wanders to the remnants of lunch and gulps another oyster. “You know, these really grow on you.”

“I’m so pleased you’re enjoying them, but can we concentrate? We were discussing setting the mood. Since you obviously seem to know all there is about that where Katniss is concerned, let’s move to erogenous zones. An erogenous zone is any area that has—”

“Heightened sensitivity,” Peeta parrots. “I heard you this morning, Effie. And I do have brothers. They shared stuff.”

“Oh?” Effie crosses her arms. “Such as?”

He twitches. “Well, uh, you know.” He gestures broadly to his upper torso.

“Breasts? Nipples? What exactly does that flapping motion refer to, Peeta?”

Face flaming, he nods. “That. Those. Uh, both of those. Girls like it when you…” Again, the victor waves his hands over the same spot.

“Touch them? Pull on them? Use your teeth and lips to lick and suckle on them? What, exactly did these paragons of foreplay point out?”

Wide eyes join cheeks the shade of an apple.

“They probably rub their unshaven faces against a girl’s neck like savages and let their pubic hair grow in an unruly tangle rather than trim it. And never mind knowing what to do with lingerie.” She pats her wig and huffs in exasperation. “You should be thankful that you have a woman giving you this advice, Peeta. A woman who understands that women like for men to savor them. For example, you’re not just going to take off her lingerie. She put it on for reason, not to have it balled up at the end of the bed after five minutes. You’re going to unfasten it slowly, kissing skin as you go. Come over here and let’s have you try it.”

“Not the doll, again.” Peeta rolls his eyes, but dutifully sits.

Effie arranges the blonde-haired doll in his lap and straightens the straps of the chemise she wears. “Pretend the doll is your future wife, dear. Now, is there any place you’ve noticed she likes to be touched? Perhaps when the two of you are _having nightmares_?”

“I’ve already told you that we just sleep.”

Effie purses her lips. “Mmmm. Well, then. Try unbuttoning her top. Go slowly. And kiss each bit of skin you expose for a count of five. Go ahead.” The woman counts as he slips a pearl button free. “One, two, three, four, five. Excellent. Again.”

It’s a valiant effort, but the boy gives up after three buttons. “I can’t do this.”

“You can, Peeta! You must! Think of Katniss!”

“This isn’t Katniss!” Peeta rises, dumping the curvy RealDoll onto the floor and gestures to it. “Look at her, Effie. Look at all of this: rose petals, lingerie, counting how long I kiss her, candlelight, and chocolates. None of this is anything Katniss’d want. And you know what? I don’t care if she doesn’t shave her legs or her armpits.” He paces in front of window. “She’s a hunter. She’s a victor. She sings like an angel. She’s loyal to a fault to the people she cares about. She found me in the arena when not another person would have even thought to look. And I don’t need her wearing perfume or special underwear that costs more than the bakery makes in a year: I love her the way she is. And if that’s trembling in the middle of the night from a nightmare, or with her hair in a braid and not an ounce of make-up on, so be it. She’ll always be beautiful to me, no matter what. ”

Effie taps her chest. “I’m sure she is. Why, all of us can see how much you love her. But you should remember, Peeta, that sometimes the things that seem the most effortless are the ones that take the most work. Like this ensemble, for instance. It took me over an hour to put together just the right look for today.” She smoothes her flowing silk caftan before rising and crossing to him. A good minute of silence stretches between them. Finally, Effie reaches a hand out to grasp his. “I was only trying to help.”

Peeta squeezes her hand and looks away. When he smiles, it looks like a grimace. “I know and I’m sorry for my outburst. I’m just under a lot of pressure right now: the wedding, the tour...it’s a lot.”

“I can imagine, dear. Please remember that Haymitch and I are here for you. Why, would we be having this little chat if we didn’t support you?”

“No. And you’ve certainly given me a lot to think about.”

“Excellent!” Effie beams and returns to her chair. “Shall we continue, then? We should have just enough time for you to practice oral sex on our RealDoll before the dinner bell.”

A look of utter panic crosses Peeta’s face for a moment. “Uh, I think I need to use the restroom.”

“Practice makes perfect, young man. This is about giving pleasure to the love of your life. Isn’t it worth a little pain?” At his completely blank look, she relents and chirps toward his retreating back, “Hurry back, dear!”

#  Katniss

“Wait, if a thong is just a scrap of fabric over the crotch, and a strip of elastic riding up your butt-crack, what is the point?  That’s just impractical, not to mention uncomfortable.”  Katniss relaxes in her armchair, fingers playing idly with the fringe on the decorative pillow in her lap.  The vodka that still lingers in her blood, along with the soporific effect of a stomach full of rich foods, conspire to lower her guard and loosen her tongue. 

“Yes, but they never stay on long enough to be truly irritating,” Haymitch jokes in agreement.  “I guess the appeal is that while not much is left to the imagination, the ‘scrap of fabric’ as you call it, preserves an air of mystery.  You know, gives the guy something to anticipate.”

She rolls his words around in her head, trying and failing to see the logic.  “It seems to me that the whole lingerie thing is a waste of time.  Why bother putting on something so fancy if it’s only going to be taken off?” 

Haymitch purses his lips as he tries to think of a way to explain the sensual allure of satin and lace.  Hoping to appeal to her softer side, he takes a slightly different track.  “Think of it as gift-wrapping.  Imagine the last time you gave someone a present, and how excited they were to unwrap it and see what was inside.”

Katniss’ mind immediately conjures a picture of Prim from her last birthday.  It had taken days of hunting long hours, but Katniss had managed to trade for enough money to buy Prim new ribbons in a pretty blue that matched her eyes, and would look stunning in her pale blonde hair.  There’d been enough left over to buy a small swatch of fabric, for Prim to make into a handkerchief, that Katniss had used to wrap the ribbons.  Prim’s eyes lit with excitement at the precious package, and Katniss remembered how she carefully opened the fabric, exclaiming with joy at the sight of the ribbons. 

Just as quickly that memory is replaced by one of Peeta when he saw Katniss for the first time after they’d won the games.  How his blue eyes gleamed under the bright stage lights, his wide smile practically splitting his face in two.  Most of all she recalls how good it felt to feel his rapid heart beat against her when they embraced, and knowing she was the cause.  

_Maybe there’s something to this whole lingerie thing afterall,_ Katniss thinks to herself.  “Ok, I get it.  But I still think thongs are ridiculous,” she concedes.

“Hey, no judgment here.  Although honestly, you could show up wearing a flour sack and he’d still bust a nut over it.”  Haymitch finishes his wine, and sets the empty glass on the low side-table. 

Cracking his knuckles, he shifts in his seat.  “One other thing I think we need to touch on is grooming.  As part of the preparation for the games, you were waxed within an inch of your life, and knowing you as well as I do, I have no doubt you’ve let things go back to their natural state, so to speak.  Now, every guy is different, and more than likely Peeta will be happy to have you just the way you are, but you may want to consider….cleaning things up a bit.  You know, trim the hedges so he can find his way without a machete.   Trust me, nothing kills the mood more than a hair stuck in your teeth.” 

Deciding it’s best not to inquire further, Katniss takes a deep, cleansing breath.  “So, is there anything else you think I should know?”

“I think I’ve tortured you enough for one lifetime, yeah?”  he wisecracks with a smirk.  “Besides, it’s almost time for what is sure to be the most awkward dinner in victor/mentor/escort history.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”  Katniss laughs as she stands and starts towards the door, ready to be done with this experience, but also with a lot to think about. 

“Oh, before you go, I have one more nugget of wisdom to impart,” he stops her with a hand on her arm.  “Don’t worry what other people are going to think, or what may or may not happen in the future.  The best thing you can do is to relax, and enjoy being with one another.  You may be surprised at how much you like it.” 

“Thanks, Haymitch.”  Katniss gives him a genuine smile before leaving the compartment.

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” Haymitch whispers into the silence long after Katniss leaves.  He replays their conversation and wonders if he did the best he could.  “Well, it’s up to them now.”

# Let's get it on...

Three bells chime softly, signaling that dinner is now being served.  When Katniss arrives, she finds both Peeta and Effie already seated at the table.  Effie checks her reflection in the blade of her silver butter knife, allowing herself this one little lapse in proper table manners, while Peeta pushes a bun around his plate, eyes downcast and a look of deep concentration on his face. 

Katniss stands in the doorway, watching them.  She can feel her anxiety ratchet up several notches, but there is just enough liquid courage left in her veins to get her feet moving towards the mahogany table.

“Ah Katniss!” Effie exclaims as she sets down the knife and stands to greet her other victor.  She wraps an arm around Katniss, and directs her to the chair next to Peeta.   “Welcome, welcome, my dear.  You just sit right here, and as soon as Haymitch decides to grace us with his presence we may begin our evening repast.”

She sits back down, and arranges her napkin neatly across her lap.  “Ahem,” she coughs delicately to get the teenager’s attention, then nods her head at their napkins, indicating they should do the same. 

Katniss and Peeta look at each other, then quickly away as the memory of their respective conversations with Haymitch and Effie come back into their minds.

Only moments later the door to the passenger cabin slides open, allowing Haymitch to saunter in, looking slightly more bedraggled than when Katniss had left him in the lounge.  Throwing himself into the remaining chair next to Effie, he casts an amused eye over his three co-diners. 

 “So,” he pauses, clearly enjoying the moment, “How was everybody’s day?” 

Three sets of eyes swing to him, one triumphant, and the other two incredulous. 

“Oh Haymitch,” Effie gushes as she claps her hands together effusively, “Peeta and I had a wonderfully educational and informative day.  I must say, I am very pleased with his progress, and have big, big, big hopes for their wedding night and beyond. I think some champagne is in order, don’t you?”  She reaches across the table and pats Peeta’s hand affectionately, oblivious to how flushed and clammy the pale skin of his cheeks has become. Her eyes swing to Haymitch as he struggles with the champagne cork. Frowning, she motions for him to hand it to her. “Tell me, how did things go with you and your star pupil?”  She pauses as she pops the cork with a single stroke and catches spurting frothy liquid in waiting flutes. At Haymitch’s stunned expression, she shrugs one delicate shoulder. “It’s all in the wrist.”

Katniss makes the mistake of looking at Peeta again, and this time notices there’s something other than embarrassment hiding in their crystal blue depths.  It shocks her to see the blatant desire simmering just below the surface, but what shocks her even more is the answering surge of excitement she feels skitter down her spine. 

“You know what?” she almost shouts as she tears her gaze from Peeta’s, “I’m still pretty full from lunch, so I think I’ll just....go to bed.”

Peeta clears his throat nervously, “Yeah, I’m kinda tired.   I think I’ll...turn in early, too.”

Haymitch watches them knowingly, sipping his pre-dinner sherry as he leans back in his chair, closer to Effie.

“But, but what about this lovely dinner?”  Effie stammers, “Surely you don’t want to miss out on the delicacies provided especially for you by the Capitol?” 

Katniss and Peeta glance at the spread being laid out by silent Avoxes, and realize it’s the same dishes they had earlier for lunch.  Her stomach rumbles at the sight of the bacon wrapped mango, and the simmering pot of chocolate.  “Maybe I’ll just make up a plate to take back to my room.”

“Yeah,” Peeta agrees quickly, eyeing the platter of oysters, “That sounds like a really good idea.”

Effie tries to protest as the two victors pile their plates high with various delights, but Haymitch quiets her with a hand on her shoulder.  “Let them be.”

“It’s not proper,” she turns towards him, ready to stand her ground on the importance of etiquette when he begins trailing his fingers along her neck and shoulder.  “They’re not married yet.”  Her voice drops, showing she’s not unaffected by Haymitch’s ministrations, as their eyes meet and hold.

Ignoring the sparks flying between mentor and escort, Peeta and Katniss finish putting together their dinner, and head to the door. 

“Hang on a sec,” Katniss stops and hands her plate to Peeta.  Rushing back to where the food waits, Katniss grabs the melted chocolate and some of the sliced fruit. “Ok, let’s go.”  Hands full they exit the car, leaving Haymitch and Effie alone. 

“So,” he murmurs, “looks like things went well all around.”

Spellbound, Effie replies, “Yes.”  She sniffs delicately, finally noticing the lingering scent of oysters on his fingers, and her pupils dilate in response. “All in all it was a successful day.”

Haymitch pulls his seat closer and leans towards her until his lips brush the delicate shell of her ear.  “What do you suppose we could to do celebrate a job well done?”

Effie jumps up in response to his warm breath on her skin, “I...I…I think I’m going to take a cue from the youngsters and retire early.”

“Need any help getting your pj’s on?” he drawls as he runs his finger along the rim of his glass, and licks the sweet wine from his finger tip.

Throat nearly dry, Effie manages to croak, “Why yes, as a matter of fact, I could use a hand with these sandals.”  She tilts her foot, giving Haymitch a clear view of her stiletto Gladiator sandals, complete with straps wrapping around her ankle and upwards.

With unexpected speed, Haymitch pushes away from the table and stands, ushering Effie to the door. “Lead the way, Sunshine.”

They’re almost to the door when Effie stops him with a hand to his chest.  “I left the RealDoll in the other room.  Why don’t you go get it and meet me in my quarters.”

A slow smile spreads across Haymitch’s face.  “Yes, ma’am,” he acquiesces as he grabs the remaining bottle of wine and hurries out the door to fetch the requested toy.

\-----

“Mmmmm, I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life,” Katniss moans as she bites into the ripe orange mango.  

Peeta watches her in abject fascination, unable to tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight.  Katniss perches cross-legged on her bed, juice dripping from her fingers, and running down her chin.  It glistens on her lips, and Peeta subconsciously licks his own, wondering if he were to kiss her right now would she taste sweet like the mango, or salty like the bacon. 

“Maybe we should try something else,” his voice cracks with the effort to shake himself from erotic thoughts.  “Effie might think we’re up to something in here.”

“Like what?”  Katniss’ brow furrows in confusion.

Peeta clears his throat, unsure how she will take the news.  “Well, she...um...hinted this morning that she...uh... _heard_ noises coming from your room.  I told her you were having nightmares, and I just came in to help you sleep, but I think that she thinks we were...you know…” 

Katniss’ eyes bulge when she catches on to what Peeta is trying to say.  “She thought we were doing _sex stuff_?”  This last part is whispered, as if she is afraid to give voice to Effie’s insinuation. 

Peeta nods, and they look away, each deep in thought.  Peeta sees that Katniss has a reflective look in her eyes, as if she’s weighing options.  She gnaws on her thumbnail, a clear sign of serious deliberation. 

“Want some of the chocolate?” he offers as a way to move past the awkward talk.

Katniss looks at him, determination bright in her grey eyes, as she jumps off the bed, and picks up a peeled banana.  She dips it into the melted chocolate, letting the excess drip into her open mouth.  “Mmmm, delicious,” she gushes she takes the tip of the banana into her mouth, twisting and twirling while her pink tongue swirls around the firm fruit.  The sight is almost enough to undo Peeta right then and there, if it wasn’t for Effie teaching him tantric breathing earlier in the day.  

Watching from the corner of her eye, Katniss can see that her actions are having the desired effect on Peeta.  His eyes are glassy, the black pupils almost completely obliterating the bright blue iris.  If someone had told her back in District 12 that food could be used in such a manner, she would have scoffed and told them they were crazy.  But now, seeing how affected Peeta is by her display with the banana, she has to grudgingly admit that Haymitch was right.  And what’s more, she is enjoying herself just as much, if the damp feeling in her panties is any indication.

Deciding she’s tortured him enough, Katniss finishes the banana and wipes her hands with a cloth before sitting next to Peeta on the plush settee. 

“So, how was your day _really._ ” She can’t help but notice he’s eaten all of the oysters, which is fine by her.  Their texture leaves much to be desired, in her opinion. 

“I’ve had worse,” he jokes as he nods to his left leg.  “How about you?  Hearing Effie talk about that stuff is bad enough.  I can’t begin to imagine what _Haymitch_ was like.”

Katniss shrugs, “You know, it started off rough, but it actually wasn’t too bad by the end.  I hate to admit it, but he actually made a lot of sense.”

Peeta shifts closer, and Katniss feels that strange heat that she felt in the dining room earlier.  She inhales, trying to calm her suddenly tingling nerves, and is rewarded with an olfactory assault unlike anything she’s ever experienced.  There’s a hint of brine from the oysters, but underneath there’s the strong scent of Peeta - cinnamon, bread, and some type of musk that is uniquely _him._ Trying to be inconspicuous, she turns and takes another deep breath.  Liquid desire rolls down her back, pooling low in her belly, and making her panties even more wet. 

“You know we don’t need to listen to them, right?”  Peeta takes her hand, sending a bolt of sensation up her arm.  “This is our engagement, our marriage, and we can do it anyway that we want.”

Katniss knows what he means by the words ‘ _do it_ ’ but all her mind can picture is the two of them sharing the sleeping bag in the cave, this time naked, with Peeta moving over her and whispering tender words in her ear.

Her tongue seems stuck to the roof of her mouth as she tries to get her brain to form words.  Failing, once again, she decides actions are what’s needed right now, and leans forward to kiss Peeta.  It’s nothing more than a brush of her lips against his, but it serves to ignite the passion simmering between them.

With a moan Peeta deepens the kiss, reaching up to card his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck, and pulling her close.  Feeling giddy, Katniss responds by nipping his full lower lip before soothing the ache with her tongue. 

In response Peeta drags his lips away from hers, blazing a path of kisses along her jaw.  Recalling Effie’s advice, he gently tugs the neck of her shirt to the side, and takes his time trailing his hot mouth along her exposed collarbone.  Katniss cradles his head, tugging on the waves when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. 

Haymitch’s words from earlier float in the back of her mind - ‘ _Trust me, any sign from you that you’re willing and that boy’ll be on you like white on rice’_.  Taking matters into her own hands, so to speak, Katniss reaches down and brushes her hand tentatively against the surprisingly large bulge in Peeta’s pants.

“What are you doing?!” he gasps, pulling away with a shocked expression.

“I just...I thought…” Katniss trails off, her cheeks flooding with color as she looks away in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Peeta cups her chin, forcing her to face him.  “Hey, don’t apologize.  You surprised me, that’s all.  Believe me, I would _love_ it if you did that again, but only if you want to.  Don’t feel like you have to because Effie can’t help eavesdropping.”

Taking a deep breath, Katniss forces herself to look Peeta in the eye.  “I don’t know if I’m ready for everything, but I am curious-”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as Peeta claims her lips once again.  Now that they’re on the same page things begin to move at a faster pace.  They rise as one, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and flying clothes, falling on the waiting bed in a nearly-naked heap of hormonal teenager.

Katniss lands with a thud on Peeta’s chest, momentarily winded by the frenzy of their kisses.  Taking a moment to catch her breath, she straddles his hips.  She’s amazed that his skin is so warm to the touch, like he has a heater built inside, and she can’t resist running her fingers along the well-defined muscles of his arms, across the broad expanse of his pectorals, and down across the ridges of his abdomen.  Most intriguing is the thin line of soft golden hair that starts just below his navel, only to disappear beneath the waistband of his undershorts, almost daring her to follow the wispy trail wherever it may lead. 

“Katniss….”  Peeta stares up at her adoringly, happy to let her explore, and delighting in the feel of her calloused fingers as they weave across his limbs, leaving tingles in their wake.  Her thumb boldly brushes his flat nipple, sending a wave of pleasure throughout his body.  He takes a deep breath, holds it for a three count before exhaling, just as Effie had instructed, begging his over-eager body to calm down.

“What the hell are you doing?”  Katniss asks after watching Peeta’s breathing exercise for several moments.  “Are you having a fit or something?”

“Tantric breathing,” he exhales. “Effie said it’ll help me keep from...you know...being too quick.” 

Katniss narrows her eyes at him, considering his words.  “So what you’re saying is you like this, and if I keep going you’ll...explode?”

“Pretty much,” he admits sheepishly.

Her lips quirk up in one corner, giving her a devilish air.  “I guess I shouldn’t do this then, huh?”  She reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting it dangle over her breasts. 

“Ah...um…” Peeta fingers twitch at his sides, desperate to feel her olive skin.  His eyes beg for permission, which she grants with a small nod.  Slowly he slides his hands along her rib cage, light like a feather.  Just below his destination he pauses, once again giving her an out.  In answer Katniss pulls the garment off, and tosses it to the floor with the rest of their discarded clothing.

“Fuuuck me...,” he breathes, eyes wide as he gazes upon her breasts for the first time.  The look on his face is so intent that it makes Katniss nervous, and she makes to cover up by crossing her arms.  Peeta stops her, “No, don’t cover up.  I just...wow...you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this.   You’re perfect, just...yeah.” 

Stunned by his honesty, Katniss drops her arms, letting Peeta look his fill.  “Can I?” he asks shyly, flexing his fingers so the tips brush the underside of her breasts.  It feels so good that she can’t find the words, simply nodding her assent.

Twin gasps of wonder soar around the room at the first tentative contact, leaving them both aching for more.  Peeta hears Effie’s voice telling him not to knead them like a loaf of bread, but to treat Katniss’ body like a delicate flower, caressing gently so as not to crush or bruise the luminous skin.  He takes her words to heart, barely molding the soft mounds. 

Another of Effie’s lessons comes to mind, and he pulls her closer, using his lips to worship the dusky peaks of her nipples.  Katniss breath becomes ragged as he laves first one, then the other with his tongue, counting out precisely fifteen seconds for each side, just as she instructed.

“Peeta,” Katniss pants, “What are you doing?”

He stills, letting go of her nipple with a ‘pop’, mortified at being caught counting.  “Following Effie’s instructions.” 

The spell broken, Katniss pushes away and crosses her arms.  “Really?  You’re bringing Effie into this?  It’s bad enough Haymitch was in my head before.”

Peeta props himself up on his elbows. “That does kinda kill the mood, doesn’t it?”

“Look, we can’t worry about what those two idiots had to say.  I’ll let you know if something doesn’t feel good, or it’s too much, ok?”  She can see he’s trying valiantly to keep his eyes from falling below her shoulders, and that he understands what she’s saying.

“Deal.  No more Haymitch and Effie; from now on it’s just us.” 

With a move learned from years of wrestling and sparring with his brothers, Peeta flips them so Katniss is on her back.  She barely has a chance to take a breath before his lips find hers, stoking the fire between them with slow, deep kisses.  Mewls of delight spring from Katniss throat, spurring Peeta on to further explore her exposed skin. 

This time, once he reaches her breasts he doesn’t count, he simply lavishes attention on both until she is writhing beneath him, begging for more.  Peeta weaves a slow path down her body, pausing to run his tongue around the indentation of her navel, which makes her giggle in a most un-Katniss-like manner.  Deciding it’s one of his new favorite sounds, Peeta tries to find other areas that elicit the same response, having success with the curve of her waist, and the soft valleys of her hips.

Feeling brave, Peeta stops his ministrations.  “Can I try something?” he asks.

Katniss tilts her head so she can see him better.  “Like what?”

“Well, there’s this thing that my brothers talk about all the time, and I kinda want to give it a try,” he explains in a rush.

She eyes him dubiously, aware of the elder Mellark brothers’ slag heap reputations, and wonders what Peeta could possibly want to try with her.  “What _kind_ of thing?”

Peeta looks away as a pink stain rises across his chest and neck.  “Uh...it’s...well…” he flounders, trying to find the words.  “Do you trust me?”

Seeing him at such a loss heightens Katniss’ curiosity.  It’s obvious he’s thought about this a lot, or he wouldn’t be so nervous about asking her.  She narrows her eyes, dragging out his discomfort just a bit longer before smiling.  “Ok.  I’ll allow it.”

Her reward is a bright smile, one that she hasn’t seen in months, not since well before the games or the reaping, and that alone is enough to make her relax.  She trusts Peeta with her life, surely he wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable.

“Just lay back, and relax,” he tells her in a voice that holds just the tiniest hint of command. 

Katniss complies, now more curious than ever.  Peeta takes her ankles, and pulls until she’s just at the edge of the mattress then places a pillow beneath her head to make her more comfortable.  Kneeling before her with a sensual smirk, he spreads her legs, and begins kissing her belly once more, slowly moving lower and lower towards the place between her thighs that has been screaming for attention all night.

He traces the lace edge of her panties, his warm breath teasing the delicate skin beneath.  Peeta cradles her hips in his large hands and tilts her towards his waiting mouth.  Softly he plants hot, open mouth kisses over her most sensitive area, teasing with his tongue until she’s squirming under him.  His eyes look up to hers, bright blue finding silvery grey in the lamplight and he holds her gaze as he continues, growing bolder with each swipe. 

“Peeta, please!” she begs as the heat spreads throughout her body, even though she’s not entirely sure what it is she wants.  She tries to push herself closer, gripping the blanket for better leverage as she attempts to swirl her hips. 

Soaked panties are torn from her body, leaving her fully exposed, but Katniss is beyond caring.  If that is what it takes to reach whatever pinnacle her body is racing towards, she’ll take the loss.  Driven by her sounds of pleasure, Peeta rears up onto his knees, changing the angle of attack, and the first swipe of his tongue with no barrier between them causes Katniss to arch off the bed, nearly snapping his neck.

Peeta lays his arm across her hips, holding her firmly in place as he continues.  In a burst of inspiration, his other hand reaches up, latches onto her nipple, and gives it a good squeeze. 

“Oh, Peeta!”  Katniss screams in response, tugging on his golden curls.  He groans at the sensation, and the vibration of his lips adds just enough for her to fall over the edge with a throaty cry and a sharp tug on his hair. 

The sound of Katniss’ pleasure coupled with the sensation of her pulling his hair is more than Peeta can handle.  Tantric breathing is beyond his ability as he loses control over his body’s responses - his heart pounds in his chest as currents of electricity ricochet across his nerve endings, the tension builds to a fever pitch until it’s too much and he comes hard, rocked by the intensity of his release.

“That was…. _amazing,_ ” she purrs as she tries to catch her breath.  “Who knew your idiot brothers could actually be useful for something?”

Looking pleased with himself, Peeta stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  As he does, Katniss notices the large wet spot on the front of his undershorts.  “Are you ok?”

“What?” he looks down, and sees the spot.  “OH!  Yeah, I’m fine.  I guess I just liked doing that to you a lot.  A whole lot.”

She stands and takes his hands in hers.  “Thank you, Peeta.” 

“My pleasure.”

Quickly they clean up, and settle back into bed, both feeling exhausted and ready for sleep.  As they arrange themselves under the blankets, Katniss accidentally hits the control panel built into the side table, turning on the TV. 

_‘Ladies and gentlemen!  Heeeeeeere’s Caesar!’_   The opening music of Caesar Flickerman’s nightly talk show fills the room.  Shaking her head, Katniss sighs and shuts off the TV, only to hear soft snores coming from beside her.  Chuckling at Haymitch’s earlier prediction coming true, Katniss snuggles deeper under the covers, and wraps her arms around Peeta.

“Goodnight, Peeta,” she whispers, and kisses him on the temple, “I’m so glad we had this talk.”

  _FIN_


End file.
